March 9, 2016

I want to start this post off by apologizing…first, for the wall of text, but also for the unreasonable delay in posting the wall of text. Hopefully the ramblings that follow this apology make sense, hit home, and lead into something.

A little over five years ago, LG and I were sitting around watching golf, predicting what the commentators would say (rather accurately, if I might so brag)–lo and behold, the PF was born. We came up with interesting ideas for content, subject areas to dedicate to our readers, unbiased reviews, etc. etc. We were ready to take on the world. Then some funny things happened. Like…life.

In the time since the blog started, LG went from being a happy student to an overworked overachiever twice, to a business owner in a field having nothing to do with his training. I became a father a few times over, moved across the country, and became addicted to finance the way I was once addicted to golf. What’s more–and without giving up too much–my job got in the way of my contributions to this blog. It simply wasn’t possible to do both tasks at the same time. So…we let it slip.

In the mean time, a few more things happened. LG grew into a new experience and relationship with the game that is, in some ways, far different from what we started doing, and, in other ways, a much deeper version of the same thing. In contrast, after 20 years of being an avid player, enthusiast, and equipment junkie, I grew jaded and cynical about the game. Things that were once fun and interesting to me grew to be a drag. It was as if I had seen behind the smoke and mirrors, to realize that what we know as golf was no more a magical experience than the Wizard of Oz. I still played, but the shine with which I once enjoyed the game grew apart from me.

This past weekend–prompted by a friend of the community–I traveled back to the east coast and played TPC Sawgrass. It was a long, painful flight. Although I had always dreamed of the moment I would step out onto that special layout, the course itself proved to be somewhat lackluster, and the greens were simply nothing special. I tweaked my back. I shot 14 shots above my handicap. And in that round and the few that followed, I lost over a dozen golf balls.

But I gained something in that trip. Meeting with two tremendous friends (one being LG), the spark lit for me yet again. The fire started. And it began to help me realize why we do this. Sure, playing for that record score is an exciting thing. Getting into competition is enjoyable. But that’s not why we do this. We do this to have something with which we can find common ground with our friends, relatives, and anyone else who feels the same way about the game that we do (or, in my case, did). We do this to have stories to pass on. We do this to get perspective on life through a game that exemplifies all of the faults of life. We do this to find those few truly special moments when we can say we did something different from the rest.

It matters little to me anymore that the veil of honor has been lifted from the world of golf, for me. I can enjoy this game for what I want it to be to me, despite the crooked politics, the dishonesty, and the douchery that pervades it. This game is personal. It’s mine alone to enjoy. Those things will not affect me unless I let them. Regardless of anything around me, I am going to continue to play and to love this game.

I’m hopeful that LG and I will have more time and energy to commit to sharing our lives in this game with all of you. Kids, jobs, life, and other commitments make it difficult. However, even if not, know that we’re still out there doing what we love. Because this game is it.